01 Shadow
by Bunnyapocalypse96
Summary: After encountering a particularly nasty alien, Rose contracts a mysterious illness. With her condition worsening, the already over-protective Doctor has to find the cause of the illness before it is too late. The episode Love and Monsters from the perspective of the Doctor and Rose.
1. Chapter 1

It was in the depths of an abandoned factory that Rose and the Doctor found themselves in that afternoon. Being that it was just outside of London, the plan was for a quick resolution of this quote "minor" problem after having been out to the Powell Estate to see Jackie Tyler, Rose's mother.

The Doctor had set off in pursuit of the monstrous alien armed with only his unimposing sonic screwdriver and a rather dainty-looking pork chop, intending to, quoting directly once again, "draw him out".

Presently, Rose was rushing about in a slightly deranged manner, trying to successfully complete her part of the plan as well.

"Right," she muttered to herself as she hurried along, "got to find the tranquiliser and get back to the Doctor. Look for the steaming bucket, Rose, the steaming bucket."

The Doctor had, after a few attempts, successfully whipped up a bucket of tranquiliser intended to sedate the alien with some of the remaining chemicals left over from the vast factory's working days. Just before running off into the face of danger as he always did, the doctor had tasked her with bringing the bucket in at the opportune moment: This being the moment that both he and the alien reached the hallway on the second floor of the factory.

Rose arrived on the ground floor of the building and allowed her head to swivel side to side frantically, searching in the nooks and crannies of the great, grey space for the place where the Doctor had prepared his chemical cocktail.

Finally, her eyes caught a flash of blue. Before questioning the sight any further, Rose ran towards the small corner of the room towards the steaming blue bucket.

She took a small moment to compose herself and dismissively brushed the hairs that had strayed into her eyes in her moment of panic away. Then she picked up the bucket in both her arms and made a run for it, hoping upon hope that everything was still going according to plan for the Doctor.

She ran up the narrow metal steps and, sounding a mighty battle cry, charged full-speed for the bulky shadow of the alien at the end of the hallway.

As she ran, Rose barely noticed almost bowling over the complete stranger standing in her path, nor did she realise that the Doctor happened to be standing right next to the alien. Not until it was too late, at least.

As the chemicals in the bucket got splashed all over the alien as well as the Doctor, she heard the Doctor give a disgruntled groan.

"That's the wrong one!" He shouted exasperatedly, "You've made it worse!"

"You said 'blue'!" She shouted, distressed by the thought that she may have ruined the entire plan.

"I said 'not blue'!" The Doctor shouted back.

Before they could continue their shouting, however, Rose instantly grew aware that the now murderous alien had since set its sights on her. She gave a small whimper as the creature's grotesquely protruding teeth, flaring nostrils and fuming eyes reared towards her, before turning and speeding into the first room she could find.

"Hold on!" She heard the Doctor shout after her.

Rose ran through the twist of factory rooms with the monster hot on her heels. She knew that, had it been a year or so ago, she would probably have been scared out of her mind right about now, but she had since grown immune to the fear that came with their adventures. Besides, she knew the Doctor would never allow anything to happen to her.

As if on cue, she felt a hand grasping her own tightly.

"Must we always keep meeting like this?" The Doctor asked, grinning at Rose.

"Oh well, you know how it is, so many monsters, so little time," Rose replied, returning his smile.

The Doctor's smile vanished as he looked over his shoulder at the oncoming beast. "Don't fall behind," he told her seriously, "They may not be very large, but these creatures pack a punch. That's why we have to get it off this planet. Pretty soon it will draw others of its kind here and then we'll have a very big problem on our hands."

Rose nodded with understanding. As they ran, the Doctor suddenly let go of her hand.

"Wha—?" she looked back distractedly, slowing her pace slightly in the process.

"Just keep going!" the Doctor called as he ran in the opposite direction, "It'll just take a jiff, I promise!" And then he was gone.

"Doctor!" Rose called after him in distress.

He said he wouldn't be long, she told herself. He promised. With this thought in mind, she willed herself to run faster, taking into consideration that the alien had caught up to her considerably in her peripheral vision. As she crossed the second floor hallway for the umpteenth time, she noted that the young stranger was still standing exactly where he had been, simply taking in the scene in front of him. For some reason, this annoyed her a little.

Rose breathed a sigh of relief as she crossed over into the next room and found the Doctor there waiting for her. "See?" He said with a grin, "Slightly less than a jiff, I should say,"

"But why did y—" looking down at what the Doctor was holding, Rose's question was answered. He had gone downstairs to fetch a steaming red bucket.

"So that's it, then? That's the tranquiliser?" She inquired.

"The one and only," he said, a glint in his eye. Something over her shoulder caught his attention. "And just in time, too."

Rose followed his gaze and watched as the alien stopped in its tracks and lifted its oblong head to the ceiling, its enormous nostrils flaring as it sniffed the air. Mostly likely detecting the chemicals that would lead to its sedation, the alien turned in its tracks and ran the other way.

"Do you mind if I do it? It's been chasing me for ages," Rose said.

She could see that there was a certain reluctance in his eyes, as well as something else, buried deep inside. Was that— _fear_? He quickly relented, though.

"Fine," he said, quickly concealing the strange emotion in his eyes with mock exasperation, "just be quick about it, ey?"

Rose nodded, quite pleased with herself. She started after the alien.

"Oh, Rose?" The Doctor called her back. She turned around to see that that look in his eyes had returned. He smiled a soft smile. "I'll be right behind you."

She smiled and, once again, started after the alien.

All she had to do was run across the hall. When she found the creature, it had cornered itself in a small room. For a moment, standing there in the doorway with nothing but a bucket of chemicals as her defence, staring down an alien whose teeth now seemed significantly larger than they had before, Rose suddenly felt very small and defenceless. Then she felt a hand on her soldier.

"I'm right here," the Doctor murmured.

Rose nodded at the reassurance and took it as her cue to start inching toward the monster. She kept her eyes firmly trained on its eyes. As she drew near, it gave a menacing growl. She instinctively jumped back a few inches.

You are the Bad Wolf.

The random little thought drifted up into the forefront of her mind. More than even the Doctor's presence, this gave her the reassurance she needed.

"Time for bed," she said firmly, splashing the contents of the bucket over the alien.

The creature's reaction to this was unexpected. She had thought it would simply go to sleep, but it didn't. When the chemicals hit, the monster started to growl loudly, curling up into itself until it could no longer stand. It sank onto the ground into a steaming, whining heap and then finally stopped making sound altogether.

Its reaction to the chemicals had been so violent that Rose was afraid that she may have killed it. She tentatively approached the alien, crouching down as to make sure that it was still breathing. Its arm was blocking her view of its chest, so she reached out slowly to move the ligament.

Suddenly, in one flashing movement, the thing had caught hold of her arm.

"Doctor!" Rose instinctively let out the frightened scream. When she looked to the doorway, however, the Doctor wasn't there.

More frightened than ever, Rose turned back to the monster, trying to pull her arm out of its grip. It was no use, and before she could even protest, the alien started pulling her closer. She was pulled face to face with the creature. Rose gave a little gasp of horror as its teeth neared her face. As she gasped, the alien exhaled what looked like a small, black cloud.

"Rose!" She heard his voice and the next thing she knew, she was propped up against the wall in the midst of a coughing fit.

"Rose," the voice was closer now and she could feel hands on her shoulders. She squinted through the tears in her eyes and could just make out his face in close proximity with hers. There was anger in his eyes, but the anger wasn't aimed at her.

"Are you alright?"

As her blurry vision cleared and the coughing stopped, she realised that she was fine. The Doctor helped her to her feet.

"I'm so sorry, Rose," the Doctor said earnestly, "I got distracted by— oh, it doesn't even matter! The point is that I shouldn't be leaving you alone, especially not after—"

"After what, Doctor?"

The Doctor looked at her for a moment and then shook his head furiously. "Are you hurt?"

Rose gave herself a quick once-over and was once again surprised and, quite frankly, a little bit impressed that she had made it out in one piece.

"So, what do we do now, you know, about—" she gestured toward the hunched-over creature on the floor.

"Load it up into the TARDIS, I suppose," he said, transferring his hands into his jacket pockets and frowning at the alien, "We should probably take it back to its home planet, maybe issue some kind of warning against others of its kind coming to Earth."

"Which planet is that, then?"

The Doctor looked up at her and grinned. "No idea."


	2. Chapter 2

With the creature nicely tucked away in a holding cell in the depths of the TARDIS, the Doctor and Rose retired to the console room. Rose tiredly stretched herself out on one of the jump seats and watched the Doctor as he turned dials and flicked switches to get the TARDIS in flight.

"So, after we head to Delta X-5 to drop Mister Grabby off, where to then?" Rose asked.

"Well," The Doctor answered, still fiddling with switches on the console, "I was thinking I'd take you to see New York in the 1920's."

"New York in the 1920's," She repeated wistfully, "What's that like?"

"Oh, it's great," he said, looking up from the console, its blue light illuminating the inherent excitement on his face, "You'll love it. It's all parties and music and dancing, all the time."

"Dancing?" Rose repeated with a smile, sitting up at the mention of the word.

"Oh, yes," The Doctor grinned, knowing that she would find this a particular point of interest, "Loads of it."

"And at these parties," Rose's eyes glinted playfully as she got up and approached the Doctor, "have you also been known to dance, Doctor?"

The Doctor shrugged, "As a common courtesy from time to time," he said nonchalantly. Then, with a wry smile, "Some may have credited me as being the inventor of the Charleston, you know."

Rose raised her eyebrows. "Well you'd better show me, then."

"Show you what?"

"Your moves!"

"My _what?_"

Rose laughed. "Well, if we're going to go dancing, I should see your moves first, shouldn't I? See what I'm working with and all."

The Doctor smiled, remembering a time when they had had a similar discussion, "Well, if you insist." He swiftly pulled Rose closer and put his hand on her waist as she in turn put her hand on his shoulder.

"Oh, wait," He said with a frown, "We seem to be missing something."

He put his hand into the breast pocket of his jacket, pulling out his sonic screwdriver and aiming it at the TARDIS console. A slow, jazzy melody hummed into being.

The Doctor put away the screwdriver and used his free hand to grasp Rose's tightly. They swayed together intimately until the melody started picking up speed. Rose and the Doctor's laughter rang out as he twirled and dipped her here and there and they danced all around the console room.

For one final move, the Doctor extended his arm so as to spin Rose inwards to him. As their arms extended, however, she let out a gasp of pain and immediately let go of his hand, crashing to the floor in the process.

The music abruptly stopped and the Doctor rushed to Rose's aid.

"Are you alright?" He asked concernedly.

"Yeah, I just—" Her eyelids fluttered and she seemed confused as she sat upright, "I don't know what happened. We were dancing and I just, sort of, fell over."

"It happens," he reassured her. He offered his hand to help her get up and she gladly accepted, but as the Doctor started pulling her upwards, Rose once again gave a little gasp of pain and fell right back down.

"Something's wrong," The Doctor said quietly. Some of that strange fear was seeping back into his gaze.

With difficulty, Rose managed to get herself into an upright, standing position. The Doctor watched with a pained expression on his face, but didn't try to help her any further.

"I don't know what's going on," Rose said, "I think there's something wrong with my arm. It keeps hurting."

"Let me see it," the Doctor said calmly.

She complied and he took her arm gently in his hands. He pulled his glasses from his jacket pocket and looked at the arm closely. Then he turned it over.

"What's that?" Rose tried her very best to stay as calm as possible at the sight of it.

"It's bad," was all he said.

The veins in Rose's right arm were bulging, but that wasn't the source of both her and the Doctor's concern. The tips of the veins in Rose's arm were pitch black.

"This is very, very bad," The Doctor said, almost to himself.

He reached out tenderly to touch her arm. As he did this, the blackness suddenly spread upwards with the bloodstream, causing her entire arm to blacken.

The Doctor had no time to acknowledge this, though, because the moment he touched her, Rose's eyes rolled to the back of her head and she went completely limp. He had just enough time to catch her before her head hit the rough, metal floor.

He carried her to the nearest jump seat and set her down gently.

"Rose?" He said, trying his best to remain calm, "Can you hear me?"

No response.

"Rose?" He took her face in his one hand and used his other to grasp her left hand tightly, "Squeeze my hand if you can hear me."

Still unresponsive.

The Doctor felt the mounted adrenaline of panic threatening to make an appearance and willed it away. He would be useless to Rose if he didn't keep his focus right now. He lowered his hand from her face and found the carotid artery in her neck. Rose's pulse was beating rapidly.

It was decided, then. The Doctor stood up and moved swiftly toward the console, setting course for New Earth.

"Don't worry, Rose, I'm going to—" He stopped mid-sentence and listened. The TARDIS had gone deathly quiet.

Rose had stopped breathing.


	3. Chapter 3

"Help!" The Doctor shouted as he burst through the doors of the New New York hospital. Rose felt too still in his arms. He calculated that she had gone exactly five minutes without any oxygen so far.

He muttered a Gallifreyan curse under his breath. Time was running out.

"Doctor?"

When he heard the familiar voice, he knew exactly who it belonged to.

"Novice Hame," he breathed as he spotted the nurse, "Please, you have to help me."

She looked down at Rose and her eyes widened as she spotted the blackness of her arm. "Get this girl into intensive," she told a passing nurse.

Seconds later, two men came up to the Doctor. They held out their arms towards him pointedly.

When he didn't respond to whatever request the men were asking of him, they moved in. They made to grab Rose from his arms.

He held fast, looking at them with indignation. "What do you think you're doing?!' He shouted at them.

How could they try to take her away now? Couldn't they see that she needed him?

"Doctor," he felt a soft hand on his shoulder. He looked into Novice Hame's eyes. "It's alright," she reassured him, "They're going to help her."

The Doctor realised that he was being unreasonable. He was letting his emotions take over. He nodded mutely and handed Rose over, watching as they grabbed her limp body and placed it on a stretcher.

Then, the stretcher was moving. It was steadily moving further and further away. The Doctor moved after it, his eyes all the while on Rose's face that seemed to become more lifeless with each passing second. Before long, he was running to keep up.

The stretcher disappeared behind a door and the Doctor was just about to follow, when one of the men who had taken Rose from him blocked his way.

"I'm sorry, sir," he told him, "No one is allowed past this point."

Over the man's shoulder, the Doctor could still see Rose's face travelling down the hall. It bore a troubled expression even in her unconscious state. She was obviously in pain.

He pushed past the man who was standing in his way, not having a care in the world for what he had to say.

He ran after the stretcher, finally feeling as though he was actually catching up to it. He would stay with her, he thought to himself. He wouldn't let her be left alone in her current state. He'd never forgive himself if something were to go wrong. If something were to happen to her and he wasn't there—

He shook his head as he ran, banishing any such thoughts. She was still alive, and she was going to stay that way.

He was only a few paces away from catching up now. He could practically reach out his hand to hold hers. All he needed to do was—

Something caught hold of his arm and he was slammed to an abrupt standstill. He watched in mute horror as the stretcher rolled away, turning a corner and taking Rose into the unknown without him; Putting her at the mercy of complete strangers.

"I _told _you, sir," the man who had stopped him said, "No visitors are allowed back here."

The Doctor turned around, taking in all 2,5 metres of the large man before him. Without even realising what was happening, he felt his hand pull back and shoot forward, landing a blow right between the hulking man's wide-set eyes. The man stared at him with a dazed expression for a second, and then proceeded to topple over back first, landing in a heap at the Doctor's feet.

The Doctor looked at the passed-out man blankly. Had he just done that?

He felt another two pairs of hands on his shoulders. He was just about to protest as they started moving him into the opposite direction he wanted to go, when someone beat him to it.

"Stop," he heard her say.

The hands did stop, changing course and moving the Doctor down the hall towards the spot where Rose had disappeared. There, he recognised Novice Hame waiting for him.

"Let me see her," he pleaded with her, "she needs me."

The cat-nurse looked at him for a long moment. "Very well," she said finally, "They're trying to restore her breathing right now, so I'm going to tell them that you're a consulting physician on the matter. If you want them to believe that, however, you will have to convince them of your complete objectivity on the matter."

The Doctor nodded, breathing deeply. He could do that.

It turned out to be easier said than done, though.

When they entered the room, having been fully decked out in their anti-bacterial scrubs first, it was to find a scene of chaos waiting for them. All around them, at least twenty medical personnel were running around Rose's lifeless body.

They had changed her into a hospital gown that made her already chalky pallor seem even more so.

People were shouting at each other in a state of panic, and the Doctor saw, with a wave horror rolling through his stomach, exactly why.

The blackness in Rose's arm had moved to engulf her shoulder and was spreading up her neck quickly. Spots of blackness had blossomed on her other arm, too.

A machine beeped from some unidentifiable spot in the room and, along with it, all twenty medics' panicked screams rang out.

"She's waking up!" The Doctor caught someone's shout.

That's it, the Doctor thought fiercely, attempting objectivity was over.

He lunged forward to where Rose lay, flinging doctors out of his way as he went. Finally, the sea of people cleared and he was standing next to Rose. She was breathing again, but that wasn't much of a consolation.

Her eyes had shot wide open and were now rolling in her head sightlessly. For a moment, they focused on the Doctor's face and her frantic gasps of breath sped up considerably.

"I'm here," the Doctor told her, briefly taking her hand. Her skin was ice cold.

He felt around on the table of medical supplies next to the stretcher until his fingers closed around a syringe. He then injected the dose of evolved morphine directly into the brachial artery in Rose's arm. She kept her eyes firmly trained on his until they fell shut once again.

Then, everything and everyone in the room went quiet. Not even the Doctor dared make a sound. The atmosphere in the room was thick with everyone's unanswered question.

What was going to happen next?

Suddenly, a sound rang out that made both the Doctor's hearts come to a complete standstill. The room was filled with it: the monotonous drone of the heart-rate monitor signalling that its subject's heart had stopped working.

It was like the chiming of a knell.

The frozen people only stood for a millisecond longer. When they thawed, it was to a scene of panic about ten times worse than before. Screaming instructions at the top of his lungs at the heart of the disorder, was the Doctor.

"Defibrillator. NOW!" He shouted at whoever was listening.

Somehow, two paddles came into being in his hands. Without hesitation, the Doctor placed the paddles on Rose's chest, sending her body convulsing as the electrical currents were fired into her heart.

The Doctor's eyes flicked between her face and the screen of the heart-rate monitor.

Nothing.

He tried again, sending another bout of electricity into her. He squeezed his eyes shut, praying to whichever gods were listening that it would work this time.

They seemed to be listening.

Through the room, steady beats rang out on the heart-rate monitor. The Doctor let out a breath he hadn't noticed he'd been holding.

"Stabilised," he announced, slumping against the person standing nearest to him.


	4. Chapter 4

The Doctor was promptly herded into a waiting room after Rose's stabilisation.

As he went, he heard all sorts of apologies and excuses of why he couldn't stay with her. Tests had to be done, clothes had to be changed— etcetera, etcetera.

The Doctor didn't protest, knowing that if he tried to pull another stunt as he did earlier when he had knocked out that burly guard, he would just be pushing his luck. He consoled himself in the knowledge that Rose seemed to be out of the red as far as her immediate future was concerned.

Instead, the Doctor had resigned himself to staring at the large clock mounted on the wall of the boring, little waiting room.

Funny thing that, he thought to himself idly. No matter where in the universe one went, hospital waiting rooms always seemed to have a clock of some kind in the vicinity. He supposed it was a way to pass the time—pun intended.

After a carefully counted-out fifteen hours, two minutes and forty-three seconds, the small door leading to the patients' quarters finally opened.

Novice Hame stepped out and the Doctor swiftly snapped back into crisis mode.

"What's wrong?" he asked concernedly, already moving past Novice Hame and towards the door, "Did something happen? Where's Rose?"

Novice Hame held up a hand to the Doctor's chest and stepped in front of him, forcing eye contact. There, she looked at him evenly. The Doctor had no doubt in his mind that the nurse could feel the elevated beat of his twin hearts through his chest.

She smiled softly. "She's awake," she told him.

The Doctor blew out a sigh of relief and smiled. It felt like his first smile in ages.

"She is?" he asked excitedly, again starting to move for the door, "Does that mean she's alright? Can I see her?"

Novice Hame blocked his way once more, her eyes bearing a warning.

"She's still very weak," She told him solemnly, "We haven't found out all we want to about her disease, but as far as we can ascertain, the infection seems to spread whenever her heart rate picks up, so—"

"So she has to stay calm," the Doctor finished for her with a nod. He grinned, barely able to contain his excitement at being able to speak to Rose again, "I can see to that."

Novice Hame nodded and finally let him through. "First door on the left," she told him.

He didn't waste any time, practically moving towards the room at a sprint. When he entered the space, he noticed that it contained only one bed.

Novice Hame must have pulled some strings and gotten Rose a private room. Quite a feat in a hospital as high-end as this.

Rose was sitting upright in her small bed, propped up by at least a dozen pillows at her back. She was just shuffling a plate of unappetizing-looking food to the side when she spotted him in the doorway. The smile she gave the Doctor was so brilliant that she almost seemed healthy again.

"Hello," he said, giving her just as dazzling of a smile. He pulled up a chair and sat down right beside her bedside.

"Even in the future the hospital food's bad," she joked, nodding towards the uneaten meal.

"How are you feeling?" the Doctor asked her, eyeing the dark marks on her arms. They hadn't seemed to have spread any more, at least.

Rose followed his gaze and a small blush coloured her ghostly complexion. She pulled at the sleeves of her hospital gown self-consciously.

"Feeling a bit tired, but otherwise all's fine," she said. She paused and a crease formed between her brows, "What happened, Doctor?"

"How much do you remember?"

She shook her head and her frown deepened. "It's all a blur, really. The last thing I remember was you and me talking in the TARDIS, then we were dancing and then—" she looked at him and there was something unfathomable in her eyes, "How long was I gone?"

"What?" he asked confusedly.

"It was all very horrible," she said quietly, "It was as though I was shifting between two worlds. In one, everything would be too quiet. In the next, everything would be too loud. Finally," she closed her eyes, "Finally everything just went black. All there was, was me. And I kept thinking about Mum and—and Mickey and Shareen and—"She looked into his eyes briefly before dropping her gaze, "And then I woke up."

Her face seemed pained. "I'm not a big thinker on those things or anything, but that's how I always imagined death would feel like. So, how long was I gone?"

The Doctor looked over at her heart rate monitor before speaking. Her pulse was perfectly normal.

He felt a small bout of awe at her being able to stare death in the eye with such calm. He didn't think that anybody would be able to do that. But then again, Rose Tyler was no anybody.

"Two minutes," he told her softly, "You were gone for two minutes."

She nodded, bulging her cheeks and blowing the air out in a long sigh. They sat in silence for a moment.

Then she looked at him with an ironic smile playing on her lips. "I suppose this takes New York out of the equation, then," she said.

The Doctor gave a chuckle. "Let's just focus on getting you healthy and out of hospital for now," he said. He looked down at her hospital gown with a bemused expression, "I don't think you'd want to go to a fancy party dressed like that, anyhow."

Rose groaned and then laughed. "Yeah, I can see how that might be a problem. Can you imagine? Meeting the Fitzgeralds, and all the time there's me wearing a backless hospital gown!"

"I wouldn't be surprised if you managed to turn it into a fashion trend," he grinned, putting up his hands grandly, "Rose Tyler, daring fashionista and risk-taker! You'd be the toast of the town, I reckon."

They were both laughing by the time Novice Hame entered. She smiled at the two of them as she gathered up Rose's still-completely-there lunch and handed the plate to a nurse who had followed her.

She then proceeded to roll up the sleeves of Rose's gown and to check her arms. The Doctor moved over to Novice Hame's side, taking out his glasses from his jacket pocket and putting them on to examine Rose's marks more closely himself.

When the Doctor and Novice Hame were done examining, they turned to each other with surprise evident on their faces.

"What?" Rose asked, looking between the two of them, "What is it?"

The Doctor met her eyes with an elated grin. "Don't count New York out just yet," he told her, "The marks are disappearing."


	5. Chapter 5

On the fifth day of her hospital stay, Rose was finally allowed to get out of bed.

"So, I can move around now, yeah?" she asked Novice Hame excitedly, "Like, out of the room? I can go exploring?"

"Conditionally," Novice Hame reprieved, "Only if you promise me that you'll sit down immediately when you start to feel tired. And you need a chaperone with you at all times, of course."

"That'll be me," the Doctor volunteered.

In the five days of their stay in the New New York hospital, the Doctor had only ever left Rose's side when the nurses came to change her gown in the mornings.

The hospital personnel had even arranged a bed for him so he wouldn't have to sleep in the plastic chair at Rose's bedside. He never used it, though.

"You sure?" Rose asked him worriedly.

Not for the first time, she eyed the dark shadows beneath his eyes. For all the boasting the Time Lord did about not needing sleep, she could see that the events of the past few days were taking their toll on him.

"I could always just have Novice Hame take me for a quick walk," she suggested, "That way maybe you could get some sleep."

"Rose Tyler," he chided her with feigned anger, "Are you trying to give me the slip?"

"Course not," she said with a fond smile, "What fun would exploring be if I couldn't do it with you?"

For a moment, the two just smiled at each other mutely, staring into each other's eyes. They had all but forgotten that another person was in their presence when Novice Hame cleared her throat awkwardly. They looked up from their staring match, looking like two children who had been caught doing something bad.

"Do you need any help getting out of bed?" she asked Rose.

"I can do that," the Doctor answered, getting up from his quickly-becoming-regular spot on the chair beside Rose's bed. He offered Rose both of his hands.

"No, that's fine. I want to do it," Rose said.

She manoeuvred her hands to her sides and started pushing herself up from the bed. The Doctor stayed close all the while, his hands held at the ready in case Rose couldn't keep her balance.

As she moved, the Doctor took a glance at the marks on her arms. She tended to hide the marks from him whenever he tried to check, so he usually seized the opportunities to do this when she wasn't looking.

The marks had moved down her arms considerably and now only coloured the veins in her forearms. As always, he was pleased with this sight. It seemed that she really would be alright.

He had to stop worrying so much…

By this time, Rose was already on her feet. Novice Hame was helping her into a bathrobe so she could walk around with her dignity still intact. She looked at the Doctor with a pleased expression on her face when the robe was on.

"Look," she told him cheerily, "I'm not an invalid anymore."

Comically, she lost her balance right at that moment. The Doctor had to move in a flash to catch her before she hit the ground. He held her by the waist as Rose pouted.

"Lousy legs," she muttered.

When he was sure she was standing stably, the Doctor let go of her. He held an arm out for her to support herself on. She took it gratefully.

"So," he gave her a grin, "Shall we go take a look around?"

"Maybe we'll find a little shop," she joked, causing the Doctor's grin to widen considerably.

They left the room and started down the long hospital corridor. Rose glanced excitedly at scenes from the open doorways that they passed.

In one, a mother was showing off her new baby to her husband and their kids. In another, an old couple were saying their goodbyes.

All around them, Rose realised, time was passing by. So many people, so many moments. Even this far into the future, there was no looking past it; the clock ticked on, even though you couldn't feel it. There was no escape from it.

There never would be.

"Hey," the Doctor said softly, giving Rose a nudge, "You alright?"

She had gone all misty.

Rose took a deep breath and threw her eyes up to the ceiling in an attempt to stop the tears from falling. After a few moments, she met the Doctor's troubled gaze. She gave him a small smile that didn't quite touch her eyes.

"Yeah," she said. She gave a wet chuckle, "just having a moment."

The Doctor looked at her with concern. "Do you want to go back to the room?"

"Nah," she said. Her voice was subdued as she rubbed at her eyes, "Do you mind if I have a little moment alone?"

The change in her demeanour threw the Doctor completely for a loop.

The concern became more evident in his eyes. "I'm supposed to be chaperoning you…" he told her uncertainly.

He didn't understand where her emotions were coming from, and it scared him. What scared him even more was the fact that she didn't seem to want to talk to him about it.

The Doctor sat her down on an empty bench in the corridor. He stood awkwardly for a few seconds, hands in pockets, both knowing that he had to give her a moment alone and, at the same time, not wanting to leave her on her own.

"Rose—" he said, torn.

"Please," she said quietly, "You don't have to worry about me. I'll be here when you get back, I promise.

Finally, tight-lipped, the Doctor simply nodded. As he turned on his heel and started walking away from her, even though he knew that he would only be leaving her for a few minutes, everything inside of him screamed that he had to stay with her.

If he didn't—

He cut off the thought immediately. She was fine. She was going to be healthy in a few days time. He had to stop worrying so much.

The thoughts were starting to turn into a mantra for him, it seemed.

The Doctor decided to take a walk to the massive hospital foyer where he had arrived with Rose both this trip and the previous one. As he entered, he caught sight of a group of intern-doctors being herded into one of the long corridors leading from the room. The whole group consisted of new-humans.

He smiled proudly. He helped create those people.

When he thought that an appropriate amount of time had elapsed—five minutes, to be precise—the Doctor headed back to where he had left Rose.

She was fine, he told himself all the way. She was going to be healthy in a few days time. He had to stop worrying so—

The hallway seat was empty.

The Doctor went ice cold. Instantly, his two hearts began beating at rapid, ragged rhythms. His eyes darted around frantically as he searched for his lost companion. Horrible scenarios of what might have happened to Rose kept repeating over and over in his mind, sending the Doctor's fear over the edge.

"Rose?!" He called helplessly, "Rose!"

"In here, Doctor!" came her voice from a room to his right.

The Doctor abruptly realised that he was being completely silly. Rose was in a hospital, not some dangerous alien battleground. Nothing was going to happen to her here.

He also, however, had been told that he would find Rose exactly where he had left her. Obviously, that promise had not been kept. Amongst the disorder of all the complicated emotions running through him, his body grabbed for the nearest one.

It just happened to be anger.

"Rose!" he said furiously as he neared the room.

How could she do that to him? Wandering off after she _specifically_ said that she wouldn't! He thought she knew better. Honestly, after all they had been through, he trusted her to know better. Especially after—

He was stopped short.

Rose sat on the floor in a large, colourful room. All around her, there were small children of all shapes, sizes, colours and creeds. The kids were all sitting, quiet as mice, while Rose read them a story from a large book. As she turned the pages, large holograms floated from the book, representing what she was telling them about.

"And then Drina, Thom and little Gerelda saw the big giant come closer!" she said animatedly. All the children gasped in response to her words.

She turned her gaze to the doorway and gave the Doctor a brilliant smile.

He smiled right back, all of his anger at her completely forgotten. He made his way to where Rose was seated and sat himself down beside her.

A little girl raised her hand just as Rose was about to continue the story. Rose looked up from the book and smiled at her. "Yes?" she asked.

"Who's that?" the girl asked, pointing to the Doctor.

Rose laughed and set the book down. "This is my friend," she said, "He's called the Doctor."

"Hello!" the Doctor added cheerily.

The storybook now being old news, all the children directed their attention to the new guest to the children's ward. The Doctor smiled at their wide-eyed expressions.

"Is he your boyfriend?" one of the little boys piped up. The child wrinkled his nose in disgust, "Do you, like, kiss each other and stuff?"

"No!" the Doctor and Rose answered simultaneously. Their eyes met for a moment, before both looked away red-faced. The attending nurses in the background giggled at the two of them.

"But you _are _boyfriend and girlfriend!" Another child insisted, "I saw you holding hands the other day when I walked past your room with Novice Hame."

"Well, that's—" Rose looked out over the small crowd of enquiring kids helplessly. She had no idea what to say to them.

"Rose was very ill," the Doctor explained to them, coming to her rescue, "At one point, she was so ill that I thought I was going to lose her. When things like that happen, you start to realise how much you'll miss a person when they're gone and you hold on to them as tightly as you can. I was holding Rose's hand, because I thought it was my last chance to do it."

The children were silent for a moment, seemingly contemplating the Doctor's words.

Rose was also silent. She stared at the Doctor, feeling both warmed and chilled to the bone at how much her condition had affected him. She had known it all along, of course, but to actually hear him say it…

"Do you love her?" the first little girl asked.

And the question dropped like an anvil.

No one said anything and the entire room was thick with expectation. Rose stared at the brightly coloured carpet, cheeks burning profusely.

Not like this, she kept on thinking. Oh God—please not like this.

"Rose?" Novice Hame appeared at the door.

Rose looked up at the cat-nurse as if she was a godsend. "Yes?" she asked. She flinched at the desperation that was so clear in her voice. She felt the Doctor shift beside her, but she was still too embarrassed to look at the emotion on his face.

"It's time for your afternoon examination," Novice Hame said.

"Right," Rose breathed out a sigh of relief, "Right. Yes. Good."

The Doctor helped her up and they headed back to the room. Neither spoke of the little girl's question again.


	6. Chapter 6

The Doctor stood outside the door to Rose's room dejectedly. He hated the fact that Rose didn't want him there when the nurses were doing their tests on her. He didn't understand it; in the past week of her hospital stay, he had certainly seen his companion go through worse.

Even when he was finally allowed back inside, though, Rose would only give him the bare minimum on what the findings of the tests were for that day. "Everything's fine," she would say with a smile, "the marks are fading more every day."

The Doctor had found this lack of information disquieting on day three already. After having spoken to Rose and coming up blank as far as specifics on her health were concerned, he immediately moved on to interrogating Novice Hame.

She had been apologetically coy, citing doctor-patient confidentiality.

Rose simply didn't want him to know the details of what was happening to her. There was probably no conspiracy behind it all; she just didn't want him to worry about her. Ironically, this fact made him worry about her all the more.

What wasn't she telling him?

The Doctor caught himself in these thoughts once more. She was fine. She was going to be healthy in a few days time. He had to stop worrying so much. As he had been doing for the duration of their stay in the hospital, the Doctor repeated the soothing thoughts over and over in his mind. It was all he could do to stay sane during the wait for the day's round of tests to be over.

He tried to listen to what the murmuring voices were saying on the other side of the door, though he knew from past experience that this would be to no avail. All he could do was wait out the agonising period of time.

Finally, thankfully, the door to Rose's room opened. Several nurses that had been aiding in the tests scuttled, but Novice Hame remained. She had taken to being Rose's personal caretaker, it seemed. "You can go inside in a moment," she said. There was some sort of excitement in her eyes.

The Doctor was wary towards the emotion on the cat-nurse's face. "Why?" he asked suspiciously.

The nurse grinned. "There's a little surprise for you waiting in there."

The Doctor's curiosity was now truly piqued. "What?" he asked again, craning his neck to see past Novice Hame and into Rose's room, "What is it?"

"Alright," Rose's voice came from the room, "Send him in."

Novice Hame stepped aside and the Doctor entered.

Rose was standing beside her bed with a massive smile plastered on her face. She wasn't wearing her hospital gown anymore. Only now did the Doctor come to realise how used he had gotten to seeing her in the outfit. She had swapped the unflattering hospital clothes out for her usual denim and t-shirt combo and her hair was neatly brushed and shiny once again. It was one of the best sights the Doctor had seen in a long time.

He looked back at Novice Hame confusedly. "She can't possibly have been discharged already?" the hope was ridiculously evident in his voice, but it was coloured with a fair amount of consternation. He had checked her arms that morning when he was sure Rose wasn't looking, and though the marks only looked like faded bruises by this time, they were by no means completely gone.

"I wish," Rose said. Her eyes widened and she addressed Novice Hame, "Not because I don't like you lot or anything!" she reprised.

The Doctor couldn't help but give a little smirk at this; Rose Tyler, people pleaser.

"Rose's tests showcased some good results today," Novice Hame said, "We told her that if she felt up to it, she could take a walk outside. But, of course—"

"Conditionally, as always," Rose completed the nurse's sentence, "I have to have someone with me the entire time, I have to sit down when I'm tired—blah, blah, blah. So, do you want to go?" she said the last sentence with so much enthusiasm that the Doctor could have sworn that she'd turned into a five-year-old in a sweetshop.

The Doctor smiled and walked over to take her hand. "Rose Tyler," he said, "I'd follow you anywhere."

She laughed and they headed out of the door immediately. Watching them pass, one of the nurses who had remained to check Rose's monitors moved to Novice Hame's side. "Are you sure those two aren't a couple?" she asked.

"Oh, they are," Novice Hame said with a smile, "They just don't know it."

…

"Alright," Rose said, anticipation filling her eyes, "on the count of three."

"One," the Doctor said.

"Two," she said.

"Three!" they cried simultaneously as they took their first steps onto the applegrass.

Rose laughed, turning her face towards the sky and breathing deeply. The Doctor looked at her with a big grin on his face; he had missed the way her hair glinted in the sunlight.

She turned to face him and returned his grin. Then she grabbed his hand tightly. "Run," she told him.

And they did.

They ran as fast as they could up the hill facing the hospital. The scent of the applegrass mingled with the scent of the sea air made for an aroma that was both intoxicating and refreshing.

As they reached the spot at the very top of the hill, the spot where the view of New New York was at its absolute most picturesque, they both fell down on the grass, somehow laughing and gasping for breath at the same time.

"Oh, that was a bad idea!" Rose said in-between the gasping and the giggling.

"And for a change it wasn't mine," the Doctor joked.

He came upright faster than Rose, obviously more accustomed to the running than she was in her state. He helped her into a sitting position. They just sat there like that for a while; shoulder to shoulder, looking at the view of the city.

Rose allowed her eyes to slide to his face inconspicuously. She looked at his profile in the light and the way his hair blew in the breeze. It was only in direct sunlight that you could see the small freckles that dotted his nose. Rose liked to give him grief about the freckles from time to time, but secretly she loved them.

She turned her gaze back to the city, watching the hover-cars whizzing about in the sky. "Remember when you took me to that planet—what was it called— Volatilla? The one with the flying manta rays."

The Doctor looked at her, but she didn't look back. Her eyes were fixed on the flying cars above the city. "Yes?" he asked, recalling the memory. He found it strange that she would bring up that specific trip, seeing as they never talked about it.

"Remember what we talked about that day?" Rose continued.

The Doctor frowned. They especially never talked about _that_ part of the trip. He remembered it well, though; it had been one of the small moments of weakness he had had with Rose. He'd known that he shouldn't ask her the question, but at the time, he just couldn't help himself.

"I asked you how long you were going to stay with me," he said with a nod. The direction this conversation was heading was causing small pins and needles to prick in his hands.

"And I said that I would stay with you forever," Rose said the words that he had been thinking. She still wasn't meeting his eyes.

"You did," the Doctor agreed.

Rose finally met his gaze. There was an indiscernible look in her eyes. It was equal amounts intensity, sadness—and fear. "Mind if I make a small adjustment to that promise?" she asked.

The Doctor stared at her for a minute before finding his voice. He wasn't used to her being as up front about these things as she was being. "Go ahead," he told her.

"I know that my definition of forever and your definition aren't the same," she started.

The Doctor was already shaking his head. "Rose—"

"Please let me finish, Doctor," she told him seriously.

The Doctor stopped talking, immediately clamping his mouth shut and gesturing for her to continue. He had no idea where this conversation was going, but it seemed that it was certainly going somewhere.

"I know that my definition of forever and yours are two very different things," she started again, "and I know that forever for me isn't really a very long time in your eyes," she dropped her gaze to her hands in her lap, "The point that I'm trying to make, Doctor, is that I think you and I both realised on this trip that I'm not always going to be there. However many times we travel to the future or the past, however out of sync with time I may be, I'll never be free from it. Not like you are."

The Doctor didn't say anything. His face was completely blank. Rose's words were like echoes of his own darkest thoughts that he had had.

At least he had the power to repress those thoughts, though. To hear Rose saying the words out loud—well, he'd settle for saying that it was heartbreaking and leave it at that.

"So," Rose said after a pause, "I'm going to change my promise. I won't be able to stay with you forever, but I'll stay with you for as long as I possibly can."

She paused again. "For as long as I live."

Her last words hung in the air.

Hearing her say that sentence, make that vow, the Doctor felt his hearts fill up with both joy and terror. Generally, he tried to avoid the idea of losing Rose as much as possible, and here she was bringing the scenario up herself. The Doctor had always been content with living in blissful ignorance of the fact that Rose wouldn't be able to stay with him for as long as she had initially promised.

He found that the problem with all people was that, while they were all so brilliantly human, they were also so painfully mortal. And he would have been fine with this problem, honestly. He would have accepted this flaw and moved on with his life—

Had Rose not been one of them…

It seemed that she was finished with her speech.

The Doctor looked at her with a frown on his face. "Where's all this coming from?" he asked her quietly, "Why are you telling me these things now?"

Rose smiled and spread her arms out grandly in front of her, including the hill and the entire city in her gesture. "It's a pretty special spot, this," she told him, looking around her fondly. She turned the fond gaze to him and smiled that tongue-touched smile that he loved so much, "Guess I was just feeling sentimental."

He looked at her arms and noticed that she was shivering. "You cold?" he asked, already shrugging out of his coat. He placed it over Rose's shoulders.

"Thanks," she told him, pulling the coat around her.

"Let's go back inside," the Doctor suggested.

"Yeah, I suppose that's a good idea," Rose said a little sadly. Then she chuckled, "before this cold wind turns out to be the death of me!"


	7. Chapter 7

**Author's note: Good evening, ladies and gentlemen (if there are any present). So, good news... seeing as this next chapter is a two-parter, you're effectively getting two chapters this week! (The next one's coming to you on Saturday) No need to thank me, just read and review and I'll be happy as a clam! :)**

**...**

On day ten, the news that the Doctor had been waiting for finally came.

Rose came to fetch him in the hallway after her tests that day. As she exited, her eyes were momentarily troubled, but then she spotted the Doctor and she became all cheer.

"Guess what," she told him, leaning against the wall playfully next to him.

The Doctor grinned. "What?" he asked her, already knowing the answer. He had seen it himself earlier that morning when he had checked, after all.

"I'm clean," she told him with smile, "The marks are completely gone! They said that they're going to keep me under observation for the afternoon just to make sure and then I'll finally get to leave!"

Even though he had known all along what the news would be, he couldn't contain his joy at hearing it being said once again. He let out a cheer and grabbed Rose in a hug, lifting her off the floor and spinning her around a few times.

She was fine. She was healthy. There was no reason for him to worry anymore.

"So, Mister," she gave him a playful poke against the shoulder, "Are we going to go out and celebrate?"

"Have you been in this hospital so long that you've forgotten that we live in a ship that can go anywhere in time and space?" the Doctor said with mock-outrage, "Of course we're going to go out and celebrate! How does 1920's New York sound to you now?"

"Brilliant," Rose said half-heartedly, "But I was thinking we'd aim for somewhere a little bit closer to the hospital. How about a party in New New York? We never actually got to go to one the first time around."

"Hey!" the Doctor said indignantly, "I took you to a party eventually!"

"If you count dropping Cassandra off to die in her own arms as a party, then yeah," Rose muttered.

"Fine," the Doctor conceded, unable to keep the grin off his face for too long, "I'll see to it that you get the finest New New York party that—" he rummaged in his coat pockets for a second, eventually pulling out a handful of various odds and ends, "two nails, a sonic refractor and a jelly baby can buy!" He popped the jelly baby in his mouth with a smile.

Rose wrinkled her nose. "How long has that been in there?"

The Doctor pulled a face as he realised that putting the sweet in his mouth might have been a bad idea. "A century, give or take," he took the jelly baby out of his mouth and threw it over his shoulder, "Maybe a century and a half."

"Well," Rose said with a sad smile, "If we're leaving tonight, I'd better go and say some goodbyes. They'll have to find a new storyteller for the kids now, I suppose."

Ever since that first day that she went to the children's ward, Rose had gone to read them stories every afternoon. Those kids were going to be heartbroken when she left. They had really grown fond of her. They weren't the only ones, either. As so many of the nurses and doctors had been involved in Rose's recovery, she had become something of a celebrity in the hospital.

Rose started down the hallway, only to stop and look over her shoulder curiously when she realised that the Doctor wasn't following her. "Aren't you coming?" she asked him.

The Doctor was trying not to smile. He had just gotten a clever idea. No—it was a _brilliant _idea. He looked at Rose and realised that she was waiting for an answer. "You go ahead," he told her, barely able to contain his excitement, "I have some last-minute arrangements to make."

Rose frowned at him, but decided not to pry. She had learned a long time ago that there was no use in trying to understand the Doctor when he was in one of his moods. "Alright, then," she said with a shrug, setting off without him.

The kids all gathered by her feet in a tangle when she entered the children's ward. They were chattering to her excitedly about nothing in particular, but since the children were all speaking at the same time, what they were saying wasn't making a whole lot of sense. Rose laughed and indicated for them to clear a path for her.

Novice Hame had explained to the kids one day that Rose didn't have her full strength and that they should therefore be gentle with her. Ever since then, the children had been especially caring towards her. Today was no different as they all went silent and stepped aside to let her pass. She moved into the room and sat herself down on her regular spot on the carpet in the centre of the space.

"So," she clapped her hands, "What are we reading today?"

Elsabeth, the girl who had asked the Doctor that awkward question a few days ago, neared Rose timidly. In her hands, she held a very large, very old-looking book. It couldn't possibly have had the ability to project holograms as the children's other books did.

"What have you got there, Elsie?" Rose asked her kindly.

"It's a book with ancient fairytales," Elsabeth told her, "My mum brought it for me this morning. It's been in our family for generations."

"Well, give it here, then," Rose said with a smile.

Pleased with herself, Elsabeth handed the book to her. All the kids had, by this time, bunched around Rose and Elsabeth to get a closer look at the new, strange object.

"It looks dusty," one child piped up.

"It's just old," Elsabeth said with an angry look over her shoulder at the boy, "Didn't anyone ever tell you not to judge a book by its cover?"

"Oi, don't fight, you two," Rose said absently as she scanned the pages. With a hint of chagrin, she realised that the book of quote "ancient" fairytales was in fact a compilation of the very fairytales that she had grown up with.

Then again, her childhood world was more than a billion years into the past in relative time. She herself would probably be considered a cave woman by these children's standards.

The idea of time passing caused her thoughts to go to a place that she sincerely didn't want to visit. Because of this, Rose tried to stifle her inner monologue by turning the page to the first story she came across. She smiled ironically when she saw which story it was.

"Right," she said, looking around the room at the youngsters, "This is the story of Brier Rose."

…

Rose rubbed at her eyes emotionally when she exited the children's ward for the last time. Her stay had lasted longer than she'd expected and she noticed that it was already dark out as she started navigating the halls back to her room.

Having to tell the kids that she was leaving had been one of the hardest things that she had had to do in a long time. When saying goodbye to adults, they usually felt sadness at one's departure, but everyone would downplay what they felt all the same so as not to make it even worse on anyone. Kids, however, were different. When faced with news of any kind, they tended to start asking questions about it. Questions that Rose had preferred not to answer.

The nurses had to come to her rescue at the end of the day, having to pry each individual crying child off Rose's legs before she could even stand a chance of leaving. After that, leaving was all she could do not to cry in front of them.

Rose walked down the corridor, holding in the tears for appearances' sake. She didn't want to deal with anyone stopping her and asking her if she was alright. She didn't feel like talking to anyone, period. She knew that there was only one face that could make her feel any better at the moment.

When she opened the door to her room, however, he wasn't there.

Instead, Novice Hame was standing in front of her, along with a group of three other, tittering nurses.

"Where's the Doctor?" Rose asked.

"He'll meet you in a minute," Novice Hame said. Her words seemed to cause the three nurses standing at her back to titter considerably more.

"What's going on?" Rose asked warily.

For the first time, she noticed the piece of clothing that lay in wait on her bed. It was a dress. An absolutely, breathtakingly gorgeous ball-gown, to be more precise.

"What's that for?" she asked, staring in awe at the midnight-blue material.

"That's for you," Novice Hame said with a warm smile. She walked over and gently lifted the dress to give Rose a better view of it, "What do you think?"

Rose touched the intricate detailing on the dress in wonder. "It's brilliant," she said, "but why would I want to walk around here in that?"

"Don't question it, dear," one of the nurses said, moving forward, "just trust us."

Rose was still confused as the group of ladies grabbed her and threw her into full makeover mode. They started on her hair, moulding it into a soft crown on top of her head and topping the do off with some local black roses. Then they moved on to her makeup, keeping it simple on the lips, but really playing up the drama around her eyes.

Finally, the dress came. It fitted Rose perfectly in both size and personality; a strapless sweetheart-neckline with a form-fitting bodice that flared out into perfect silk waves at her knees and dipped low at her back.

When they turned her towards the mirror, Rose gasped at her own reflection. The pale, ordinary girl that usually lay there had been replaced with an extraordinary creature. The darkness of her eyes and her garb made her seem mysterious, dangerous and, most importantly, timeless.

The woman in the mirror was someone who belonged with the Doctor.

Then the nurses were leading her out of her room and into yet another twist of hallways. When they all piled into the elevator (which, thankfully, was not the kind that sprayed you with disinfectant), Novice Hame announced that they were heading for the hospital foyer.

Why on New Earth did she have to dress so fancy for a trip there?

They reached the double doors leading to the foyer within minutes. The nurses were practically bouncing up and down with eagerness to show her what lay on the other side of the doors.

"Ready?" Novice Hame asked her.

"I suppose," Rose said, still not knowing quite what to make of the situation.

The doors opened to a monumental shout of "surprise!".

Rose had to blink several times to make sure that she wasn't dreaming. The entire foyer was softly lit with fairy lights. All the doorways were garlanded in various unknown but beautiful flowers. All the furniture in the large space had been moved up against the walls to make space for the large crowd of hospital personnel that were now all smiling at her.

Looking at where she was, how she looked, Rose couldn't help but feel like a princess.

And at the very front of the crowd, looking extremely dashing in a black and white tuxedo, her prince stood.

"So," the Doctor looked at her with a small smile, making no attempt to conceal the wonderment in his eyes at how breathtaking she looked, "You asked me to take you to a New New York party. Will this suffice?"


	8. Chapter 8

Rose felt her eyes well up.

Seeing the tears, the Doctor's smile disappeared instantly. "You don't like it," he said in horror, "Did I do something wrong?"

Rose laughed as she tried to clear the tears from her eyes. "No, you daft alien," she said. She walked over and grabbed the Doctor in a tight, sure hug, "It's beautiful."

When she pulled back, the Doctor was beaming. "I knew you'd like it," he said.

Rose turned around and looked out over the crowd of expectant guests. "Should I maybe—I don't know— say a few words or something?"

"I suppose if you want, yeah," the Doctor told her, nervously ruffling his hair. He suddenly realised that he hadn't really thought about what to do after Rose had actually arrived at the party.

Rose smiled at the people and cleared her throat. She didn't really know what to say to them. She resolved to just start talking and hope for the best. "Hello everyone," she said, giving a little wave. Then, noticing how embarrassingly awkward the gesture looked, she dropped her hand to her side, "Umm, I've never really been good at this whole public speaking thing…"

She looked to the Doctor for any kind of helpful inspiration.

"I think Rose just wants you all to know," the Doctor started, looking out over the crowd, "that she's really grateful to all of you for looking after her these past few days," he met Rose's eyes and it was as though he thought that she was the most valuable thing in the universe, "We both are."

Rose stared into his eyes, unable to look away. The Doctor was looking at her so intently that Rose was scared he might somehow hear the fearful thoughts that were running through her mind. That her face might somehow betray what she was really feeling…

The Doctor nodded at her with an asking expression. He wanted to know if he had gotten her message across effectively.

No, Rose wanted to tell him. He hadn't even gotten half of it across. He could never sum up in those few short sentences how much gratitude she felt towards the people in the hospital. How much gratitude she felt towards him. He would never be able to communicate the utter fear she felt, either, because he could never know about it. A part of her wanted so desperately to tell him. To tell him everything.

But she wouldn't.

Rose smiled. "Yeah, what he said," she said, getting a few chuckles from the crowd.

"Well, then," the Doctor said, "Let's get this party under way!"

The classic string quartet, God knows where the Time Lord found one five billion years into the future, started playing a slow, stately melody. People moved into smaller groups, conversing with each other over the champagne and various finger-foods that were being passed around the room. The Doctor and Rose rotated between the groups, talking to each person in the massive foyer for a few minutes.

It seemed that they were the couple of the evening.

After an hour or so, Rose started to feel a little tired. She looked longingly at a tray of cucumber sandwiches as they neared her. She was just about to grab one when she was pulled into yet another conversation by the overly enthusiastic Doctor.

"—but I really was there at the end of the world!" he was saying to a group of disbelieving patrons, "Had front row seats to the planet burning and everything! Tell them, Rose!"

Rose struggled not to roll her eyes at the Doctor. He just couldn't walk away from an argument without getting the last word in. "We really were there," she told the group reluctantly. She knew that if she didn't, the Doctor would probably get all pouty for the remainder of the evening. Then she smiled slyly, "He took me there because he thought it would make me think that he's impressive."

The group laughed delightfully at her words while the Doctor looked at her with feigned indignation. "I am impressive!" he said, "Really, Rose, you don't give me nearly enough credit."

Rose chuckled and hooked her arm around his. "I just don't want you to get a big head, is all," she joked, "Honestly, sometimes I wonder what you're going to do without me one day. Probably go all Time Lord Supreme!"

It was meant as a light jab, but Rose could see the pain in the Doctor's eyes that her remark had caused him. She instantly felt sorry for having said it.

Instead of replying, however, the Doctor cocked one ear slightly to the side and listened. The quartet was playing a waltz. All around them, couples were moving onto the dance floor.

"You know what?" the Doctor said with a pensive frown, the glint in his eyes turning playful, "I don't believe we ever got to finish that dance in the TARDIS the other day."

"Hmm," Rose played along, relieved that he seemed to let the fact that she had upset him go. She put a finger to her chin, pretending to think about his words for a second, "I think you may be right."

A huge grin manifested on his face. "Dame Rose," he said formally, extending a hand towards her, "May I have this dance?"

Rose giggled and took his hand, giving a little curtsy. "Sir Doctor, it would be my pleasure."

He led her onto the dance floor in a very gentlemanly fashion. Once there, he put a light hand on her waist and used the other to grasp her hand. Rose, in turn, put her hand on his shoulder. She smiled when they started moving with the three-beat rhythm of the waltz.

The music was slow and lulling. It was almost hypnotic. Rose was well aware of the fact that she and the Doctor were pressed significantly closer together than they had been during their dance in the TARDIS.

The mood of the dance felt different, too. Their joking before the dance completely forgotten, not one of them bore the laughing joyfulness that they had had that day. The way in which they stared into each other's eyes bore the intensity of a deep sadness. A realisation of the denial they had been in prior to their trip.

As they spun and twirled around, outshining the other couples easily, Rose knew one fact with certainty:

Her and the Doctor's time together was running out.

She wondered if he was thinking the same thought as she looked at his face. His eyes told her that he might be.

She felt her feet go still while the music still played on. The Doctor stopped as well, his expression confused. Rose just looked at him, wondering what was running through his mind. Wondering if he felt remotely as strongly for her as she did for him.

Sometimes she thought that he did. Sometimes, she believed that he may even—

The fears that she usually hid so well were making themselves known in her mind. Time was running out, they kept saying. She didn't have forever.

And she needed to _know._

She didn't know what she was doing. He didn't know what she was doing. His confused expression drew nearer as she moved in. She just had a second to see the realisation of what was happening flicker through his eyes before her eyes closed.

Then she was kissing him.

It was warm and desperate— and over too soon. Rose only fully realised what she had done after it was too late. Suddenly, she couldn't even look at him. She took two steps back, out of his arms, and clasped her trembling hands over her mouth.

She looked at the floor, feeling the stupid tears making their appearance once again. "I'm sorry," she whispered, horrified at herself. How could she have done that? Out of all the things that she could have done, what had possessed her to do _that_? "Oh my God, Doctor, I'm so sorry."

She ran out of the hospital doors, leaving the Doctor staring dazedly after her.

The entire foyer had gone quiet. Everyone was looking at the spot where the scene had just unfolded. Even the music had stopped. The Doctor looked at the expressions that surrounded him. The emotions on the party guests' faces ranged from shock to amusement, but only one in particular stood out for him.

Novice Hame seemed completely unsurprised.

Without giving it much further thought, the Doctor bounded out of the room after Rose. As he ran, he kept replaying the moment over and over in his head.

Not the kiss, though that had been—well, amazing, quite frankly. No, the thing that sent a chill up his spine had been Rose's face just before she had kissed him.

For the first time in a long time, she had let down her boundaries. It had shocked the Doctor to see it happen; seeing exactly how many walls she had erected between him and what she was truly feeling.

Then, all at once, seeing how she had let those walls drop. Whether it had been a conscious decision or just because of the fact that she simply couldn't keep up the charade anymore the Doctor didn't know, but in that moment he had seen everything that she had been hiding from him. He had seen how broken she really was inside.

And he was so angry at her for not having told him. He was _furious_.

He knew exactly where to find her. Reaching the top of the hill overlooking New New York, he saw her shadow looking out over the sea. Even as angry as he was with her, he couldn't help but notice how beautiful she was illuminated in the moonlight.

She was crying.

He went to stand beside her and looked out over the skyline of the city. It was illuminated by a million tiny lights, making the sight seem almost magical.

"Why did you do that?" he asked, his voice sounding loud in the tranquillity of the scene.

"I'm sorry," she apologised again. The tears were streaming silently down her face, "I know I shouldn't have kissed you. I was just—"

"No," the Doctor said quietly, "Not that. I'm talking about the fact that you've been blatantly lying to me this entire trip."

The Doctor tried to gauge her reaction to his words and was by no means disappointed. Her eyes grew large for a second and utter terror caused her entire body to stiffen.

"W—What do you mean?" she asked him, throwing her eyes in his direction swiftly.

"You know exactly what I mean!" he exploded, "Rose, you've stopped talking to me! You've been hiding things from me ever since I brought you to this hospital! I'm not allowed to know about what the doctors are saying about you, I'm not allowed to analyse you myself—how do you expect me to know if you're alright if you don't give me any proof?!"

"Don't you shout at me," Rose said quietly, "Not now. Not tonight. You have no idea what I've been going through these past few days. You don't understand how _hard_—" she choked, unable to hold back the sob building in her chest.

She turned to him and her eyes were hard. "I want to tell you. God, talking to you about it is all I've wanted to do for so long. But I _can't._"

He looked at her in stunned silence.

"You're right," he told her after a moment, "I don't understand."

The night air was warm, but an unseasonably chilly wind was blowing in from the North that caused Rose to shiver. She supposed that it was as good a night as any, though. At least the skies were clear and the stars were visible.

Rose gave a sigh and turned to look at him fully. "I'm sorry that I ruined the party," she said softly.

The Doctor sighed, as well. He knew that the fight was over. Or rather, he knew that it was over for the moment. "It's fine," he told her, sitting himself down on the applegrass. He looked up at her and gave a half-hearted smile, "It was good while it lasted though, wasn't it?"

Rose returned the smile, albeit without the hardness disappearing completely from her eyes. She lay down next to him in the grass and stared at the stars above her. They were completely unfamiliar; so many places still waiting to be explored.

"I wish you were there with me when I said goodbye to the kids today," she said.

The Doctor also lay down on his back, looking up at the night sky. "I should've gone with you," he agreed, "the nurses told me that you were quite a wreck when you left there this evening."

"I was," she said softly, "It's silly, really. I've only known those children for a few days."

"You grew attached," he said, "It can happen very quickly."

"It got me thinking, though," Rose said, softer still, "About—kids. How I'll probably never have any."

The Doctor frowned up at the sky. "Don't be like that," he said, "You never know what might happen in the future. You'll have kids one day, I'm sure."

"No," Rose said quietly, "I'm quite certain that I won't."

The Doctor lay there for a while, absently charting the stars in his mind. He contemplated Rose's words and what they implied. Everything she said seemed to have a double meaning these days.

"Doctor?"

"Yes?" he asked.

"The other day when Elsie asked you that question," Rose's voice was faint. The Doctor wondered if she may be falling asleep, "If it had been just you and me and I had asked you that, what would you have answered?"

The Doctor wasn't surprised by the question. He had half-expected it to make an appearance eventually, what with Rose being so direct about things all of a sudden. Of course, he knew the answer. He'd known it for a very long time.

The only problem was that, after he said it, there would be no going back. Saying it would irrevocably change his and Rose's relationship—meaning that having to lose it would be just about a thousand times worse.

"Yes," he answered simply.

She was silent beside him for a long while, so long that the Doctor worried that she might really have fallen asleep. Finally, though, she replied.

"That's good," she whispered.

The Doctor nodded to himself. It was good.

They lay there, not saying anything, for a long time. At first, the Doctor enjoyed it. They didn't need to speak. Everything was out in the clear now; there was no need to worry anymore. Rose had told him what she had been hiding from him and, though he was angry, he understood it. The realisation that their relationship had an expiration date had caused both of them great distress. It had driven Rose into a depression, and she hadn't wanted him to see her like that. That was why she'd been distancing herself from him in such a way.

But everything was fine now.

Then he realised that the silence had become uncomfortably long. The only sound that was heard on the hill was the wind blowing above their heads. For some reason the quiet was almost _unnatural_.

The Doctor suddenly got a very, very bad feeling in the pit of his stomach. He turned his head slowly to where Rose lay.

"Rose?"


	9. Chapter 9

**Author's Note: Hey, guys! So, it seems that I may be spoiling you a bit these days…Seeing as this chapter is only about 300 words in length, I'm going to give you another TWO chapters this week! (Next one Saturday, as usual) No applause, please.**

**Happy reading! :)**

…

"Rose?"

Her eyes were open. She wasn't looking at anything in particular; just staring up into the sky sightlessly. Her hands rested on her stomach comfortably. It might have been a pensive position.

Had she been awake.

He looked at her, not understanding. Not comprehending the nature of what she was doing. What was she doing? What was he doing? What exactly seemed to be happening? Why was she—

He was no longer aware of time passing second by second. Time was passing in short bursts of actions. It felt as though he was living in a live-action animation, consisting of frames rather than sequences.

Frame one. He was on his feet, staring down at her.

No, no, no, no, no…

Frame two. He was sitting beside her, frantically counting out thirty chest compressions and lifting her head to blow air into her lungs. Over and over and over.

No, no, no. Oh please, no…

Frame three. She was in his arms. She was ice cold.

No, no, no, no. This can't be happening. No, no, no…

Frame four. He was running faster than he had ever run before.

Hold on. Please, please, please, stay with me…

Frame five. Lights burned bright around him, stinging his eyes as they adjusted from the darkness outside. People were screaming and crying and yelling and shouting.

Or was that him?

Frame six. Someone was taking Rose. Hands were restraining him. More yelling and shouting.

Frame seven. He was watching her through a window as people used their machines on her. She kept on lying there, staying completely still.

Please, please, please…

Frame eight. Novice Hame was talking to him. She was apologising. People were trying to console him. More yelling.

Frame nine. Novice Hame was shaking him by the shoulders, screaming the same thing over and over: "There was nothing you could have done! Do you hear me?! THERE WAS NOTHING YOU COULD HAVE DONE!"

Frame ten. Nothing mattered.


	10. Chapter 10

Twelve hours.

That was how long he'd just been—standing there. Standing, hands in pockets, completely motionless, simply staring down at the covered figure on the table.

After the ordeal, he'd calmed down. The shift had been almost painfully contradictory as, in the fraction of a second, his face had gone from agony to serenity. Total, serene emptiness.

Like a corpse.

And no one had wanted to talk to that face. The live dead man. No one had wanted to stop him as he had entered the morgue and had positioned himself in front of her, so pointedly and protectively, or as he continued to stare on at the colourless sheet draped over her features which he never lifted. No one wanted to face him now, when the paperwork came.

So, naturally, the task fell to the one who knew him the best out of them.

Novice Hame entered. She couldn't see his face as his back was— with purpose, most likely— turned on the entranceway to the morgue.

She knew that he'd heard her come in, but he made no attempt to acknowledge her presence or her general existence. He was content with just living in his and Rose's world. Just his world.

She half-expected this; he had ignored the brave souls who had attempted to reason with him earlier that day in equal measure.

She clutched the clipboard bearing the papers to her chest surreptitiously, delaying the inevitable rise that she knew they would bring out in him. She had been working in this field for a while now, and she knew a bit about the way people grieved. It was like standing on a silent battleground, until one stepped on a landmine.

They stood there— her looking at him, him looking at the sheet— for longer than Novice Hame could count.

"Do you believe in prophecies, Novice Hame?"

The voice, detached and emotionless, caused her to start. She realised that that must have been his first coherent sentence in a long while.

He didn't turn around. He simply stood in his fixed position. Novice Hame knew that he expected her to answer, though.

"W—what are you referring to, Doctor?" she asked timidly.

"You know," it was as though his words were being formed independently in the air, completely irrelevant to the statue posed in front of her, "Destinies perceived, futures foretold—all that stuff. Believe in any of it?"

The question might have been merely conversational had the situation been any different. Them being where they were, however, Novice Hame knew better than to say anything, lest she state something contradictory to what he thought. And what he thought could go both ways, really.

Silence. Again.

"_She will die in battle_," he murmured cryptically. He gave a harsh, humourless bark of laughter, "Of course, this is what it meant. Not what I thought. _Never _what I think." For a brief moment, one of his hands appeared from a pocket and moved as though he was going to reach out to touch her.

"No, it's always just—_this_," he said. His hand dropped to his side instead. He gave another cold laugh (or was it a sob?), shaking his head.

Novice Hame took a deep breath and looked down at the papers she was holding. She still had a job to do. "I know it's—not optimal," she said, thinking of what an understatement that truly was, "but there are some things that need to be taken care of in light of Rose's—passing," she checked to see if he was fuming yet, but all she found was that both of his hands were now hanging pointlessly by his sides, "There are some arrangements—that is to say, paperwork and such—that you need to help us with, so as to ascertain what—how—her remains should be dealt with."

No response. At all.

She briefly wondered if she was inadvertently heading down a war path in asking these things of the Doctor. He obviously wasn't in his right mind. Beside himself with grief, as one would come to expect. Adding to that, he was also unpredictable. In a situation like this these circumstances were, to use an earlier description, not optimal.

Playing with fire, as they say…

"I tried, you know."

This startled Novice Hame anew. The words were said almost inaudibly, but what they held was utter, hopeless despair. Like the whimper of a wounded animal.

"I tried," he repeated, louder this time, "Ever since we left that hellish planet. Ever since that damn Beast in the pit said the words—anything dangerous, anything at all, I would direct us away from it. No more heated conflicts in history, no more potential revolutions. I kept steering us around in circles—deserted planet, peaceful moment in history and round to Jackie's— over and over. I know that it was boring. I know that that's not our idea of adventure. But I didn't care. As long as we were together. As long as it kept us safe. I made sure of it every time we went somewhere, made sure I wasn't even going _near_ anything _remotely_—" he choked, bowing his head.

His right hand lifted up, unfaltering this time, and pushed a corner of the sheet away. Holding one of her pale hands.

"I tried, Rose," he whispered brokenly.

Novice Hame dropped the papers to her side, understanding truly how irrelevant they were. How unimportant anything was in the face of the loss this man had just experienced.

And she knew that she had to tell him.

"There was nothing that you could have done, Doctor," she repeated her earlier words. She took a deep breath and decided, once and for all, to tell him. The damage was done, after all. There would be no going against people's wishes now.

"She's been dead since you arrived."

Rose's white hand dropped back onto the table with a soft thud. His hand dropped back to his side. He still didn't turn around.

"What?" he asked softly.

"The moment that infection caught a hold of her," Novice Hame continued levelly, "At that moment, it was already too late. Rose was always going to die. There was nothing you could have done. She was terminal."

Her words took a moment to make impact.

"No," the Doctor said. His face was still hidden from her, but Novice Hame could hear the fresh emotion stirring in his voice. She couldn't place her finger on what it was.

"We informed her during testing on the third day of her stay," she told him, "But I suspect that she knew even before then. The sensation of being infected is—painful. We couldn't ascertain what it was that was attacking her system, but all treatment that we were using against it was proving to be useless. The parasite—if it was even that—was spreading through her bloodstream more every day, and there was just no way of stopping it."

"No," he repeated, shaking his head in denial, "the marks were disappearing."

"The parasite initially inhabited the bloodstream in her radial arteries," she explained clinically, "As the infection spread through her body, however, the parasite displaced itself into her major organs, causing the infection to appear to lessen in her arms, where it did less harm."

She was quiet for a moment, contemplating the true nature of the condition Rose had been in. The amount of strength that girl had had…

"It was attacking her body from all sides. Lungs, liver, brain—but it was her heart that gave way in the end."

The revelation was abrupt, merciless.

She had been dying all along. Every moment that she had flinched after sitting up too quickly or coughing too loudly, every instant in which she had needed to sit down to catch her breath— she had written it off as being minor pains. Small obstacles on the ultimate road to recovery.

It had all been a lie.

The Doctor thought that he was going to be sick. He blew out a breath in a hard shudder. His body was tense, his fists balled-up tightly at his sides.

"Well then," he said quietly.

Something was gearing up for a fight inside of him, and Novice Hame could almost physically see it bubbling to the surface.

And the next moment he was in her face, his face twisted in agony and tears streaming down his cheeks as he shouted at her at the top of his lungs.

"WHY DIDN'T YOU TELL ME?!"

Novice Hame took a step back as he cornered her. He looked at her with all the fury and the rage and the darkness of something very, very alien. Something very, very powerful. And she found herself quivering in fear at the sight of it.

"I would have," she said, shrinking back, "I knew that you, out of all people, should have known. But Rose refused. She forbade me and every single staff member to talk about it near you, to give any hint of something being wrong. When she received the news of her terminal status that day, she never once cried for herself or her own fate. When I told her, her first words were 'I can't believe I'm going to do this to him'. After that, she came to me personally and made me promise, _promise_ that I'd allow her to spend her last days on this Earth with the man she loved. With you. I told her that there was a possibility of us being able to prolong her life by weeks—maybe even months, if we could just move her to the ICU. If she would just stay put in her bed—" she blinked rapidly to clear the tears forming in her eyes, "But she wasn't having any of it. 'You watch us run,' she told me, 'I'll run with that man until the end'."

She was crying then. The Doctor was crying as well, though his expression bore no sign of it. His eyes were cold and hard and empty. And all he kept thinking was that he was alone again. That he had lost everything, again. That it was even worse this time around, because it had been _Rose_.

He had lost _Rose_.

He took a step towards Novice Hame and, for a moment, she thought that he was going to hit her. She winced, but instead he moved forward and put his arms around her.

Instead, he hugged her.

Then he released her. He stepped back two steps. He looked at her and his eyes still bore the same void of nothingness that it did before. He stayed silent for a while, the tears freely flooding his features.

"Thank you," he finally told her.

He swept out of the room.


	11. Chapter 11

He pushed away the TARDIS's comforting presence in his mind when he walked into the console room. He didn't want to be comforted. He didn't want to be consoled. He _couldn't_ be, because she was gone.

She was gone.

And he would have to tell Jackie. He would have to go over to the Powell Estate without her. Jackie would come down to greet them when he exited the TARDIS. To see her daughter. And she wouldn't be there. And Jackie would ask him where she was. That fear for her daughter that he always saw in her eyes would make another appearance. And he would have to tell her. He would have to tell her that he couldn't keep his promise. He couldn't keep her safe like he'd told her he would.

He stormed into his bedroom. He looked around the space that had been abandoned by him for the past few days, and it seemed alien. Completely foreign.

He hadn't wanted to come back to this place until he knew that she would be fine. Until he could bring her back with him.

They never talked about the nights. The nights in which one or both of them would have bad dreams. The nights in which she would come into his room and sit on the end of his bed, telling him about her fears. Listening to his fears. Somehow they would always wind up falling asleep and the nightmares wouldn't return. They would wake up holding each other, tangled up in the covers of his bed. And they wouldn't question it. They would get up, she would leave and they would move on with their lives. And it would happen again the next evening.

He knew that the pillows on his bed smelled like her. He made no move to near them as he sometimes did, though. Now they were just a reminder that she would never lay her head down on them again. That he'd failed her.

He'd never noticed how much Rose had influenced this room until now.

Before, it had been just another place for him to work in peace; an impersonal space between four walls with a smattering of various artefacts, schematics and the like, a small bed in a forgotten corner of the room for when he got tired, which he almost never did.

Since Rose, however, the room had become less equipped for work and more for remembering. The artefacts had been replaced with trinkets from their various journeys. Schematics had been taken down from the walls to make space for pictures of him and Rose on their adventures. For all the talk about him not doing domestic, his room said otherwise. And somehow, he didn't mind it. Being domestic had suddenly not seemed so bad with a companion like Rose Tyler at his side. Hell, he would have even gotten a mortgage if it meant that she would stay with him.

He always knew that a day like this would come, though. Happiness was just too elusive and short-lived for it not to. Whether she left, or they became separated, or he outlived her, he had known that she would leave him eventually and that he would be left a broken man because of it.

But not like this.

This was too cruel, even by fate's standards.

To have him feel like he'd saved her; that everything would be alright, only to have that joy stamped out by the truth that the situation had never really been that. To know that she had betrayed his trust in her and yet not being able to muster up any anger, because she had done it to protect him. She had loved him enough not to want to him to try to save her only to realise that he couldn't. He knew that he would have done the exact same thing if he were in her position.

But now she was gone and all he could see were images of her and his hearts ached so badly that it felt as though he couldn't breathe.

Enclosed in the fist at his side, he was still holding onto the small object that he had salvaged. It hadn't been so much a conscious decision as impulse to take it. He lifted his hand to his face, opening his fist and looking at the thing that lay in his palm.

A black rose bud.

He found it morbidly ironic that Rose would wear such an accessory in her hair on her last night. The nurses who had picked them (to go with the dress he had gotten her) had probably not even thought of it, but the Doctor thought that it felt like some sort of sick cosmic joke.

He had never liked black roses. Flowers were supposed to be colourful. They were supposed to represent something full of life. A black flower was like nature's greatest oxymoron. It countered everything that he believed in; life, joy, beauty—it felt to him like a testament to the fact that Death would always have the last laugh. Death would always have the ability to obliterate anything and everything that was good in the universe.

Here was Death proving that fact once again.

Something in the Doctor made him move forward to look at one of his favourite photos mounted on the wall. It depicted him and Rose, his arms around her waist, her arms around his neck, laughing delightedly just as a very angry-looking Freddy Mercury was nearing them in the background.

The Doctor almost smiled at the memory. He had taken Rose to Wembley Stadium in 1985 to watch _Queen_ perform after she expressed her regret at never having been able to see them while Freddy Mercury was still alive. It had been a blast, of course, with them eventually asking one of the more-than-slightly inebriated rockers in the audience to take a picture of the two of them. They were actually supposed to be running away from the band-members at this point, seeing as the Doctor had just insulted their lead-singer five minutes prior to the picture being taken. Hence the angry photo-bomber.

"You shouldn't have told him _Bohemian Rhapsody _was a rip-off," she'd giggled after they had lost the band-members.

"It was!" he had replied indignantly, "You think it just _happened _to sound identical to Licra Quilinox's _Racnorican Rhapsody_ that was released almost a hundred years before Freddy's 'original' song?"

He'd thought that she would come up with a clever retort to this, but instead Rose had gone quiet. She'd looked at him blankly for a moment, before her face broke out into that small smile she sometimes got when she looked at him.

"I love travelling with you," was all she said.

He'd lifted their entwined hands up then, as though he was showing her a visual representation of the bond they shared. "Me, too," he had simply replied.

After that, they'd naturally gotten themselves into a spot of trouble. The Doctor couldn't much remember the details of it all, but he did remember that Rose had been the first to notice that something was off, as per usual.

What had they been investigating, again? It had had something to do with a woman, he recalled. Rose had insisted that they help her after seeing the little boy clutching at the woman's leg as they had passed.

She'd always had a soft spot for kids, Rose. Especially kids who lost their parents.

That was probably why Rose had cried so much when they had been too late in saving the little boy's mother. It had been horrible seeing her like that; trying to revive the woman while the Doctor kept telling her that it was already too late. Seeing her looking at the pictures of that little boy with his mother on the fireplace mantel—

That face.

The Doctor froze.

The rose bud fell from his hand. He made no move to pick it up, standing right where he was with his hearts beating at an increasing pace. His mind worked for two seconds, the wheels in his brain turning at the speed of light.

Then he bounded from the room, shouting "OH PLEASE, OH PLEASE, OH PLEASE!"


	12. Chapter 12

He came storming into the morgue like he owned the place.

"Novice Hame!" he shouted, ploughing through staffers as he went. She was standing to the back of the room, beside the covered figure that was once Rose.

"Doctor," she said, startled, "I thought you'd gone."

"Not a chance," he said, looking at the shape on the table over her shoulder.

Her face had been uncovered.

He seemed to tear his eyes away from the sight with some effort, once again looking into Novice Hame's eyes, "I need to see the results of those tests you did on her."

"No, we can't do that," a nurse standing beside Novice Hame interjected, "We can't give her documents to you unless you have expressed permission from the senate of New—"

"Listen, I don't know who you are," the Doctor snapped at her, "but if you haven't noticed, I'm not in the best of moods right now, so if you don't have anything helpful to say to me, kindly _shut up._"

The nurse looked outraged, but the Doctor couldn't care less. He turned his attentions back to Novice Hame. "I need those results," he told her urgently, "_Now._"

Novice Hame nodded, turning immediately to head for the monitor mounted on the wall beside the entrance of the morgue. As she rifled through the files on the screen, the Doctor couldn't help but gravitate towards Rose's table.

He looked down at her face. Her eyes were closed. If he didn't know any better, he might have thought that she was sleeping.

"_Death, that hath sucked the honey of thy breath, hath had no power yet upon thy beauty_," he murmured the Shakespearean lines.

Romeo and Juliet seemed to be a fitting story for them.

"Here," Novice Hame informed him when she found what he had been looking for.

The Doctor moved to the screen and took his glasses from his pocket. Perching them on his nose, he scanned the results faster than was humanly possible. He tried not to let the information get to him too much; seeing her deterioration in the frankest of terms, scientifically, in front of him. Graphs depicting the overall health of her vital organs all showcased dramatic plunges, but what disturbed the Doctor the most was the pain graph.

Common medical practice constituted that the patient be asked for a pain indication on a scale of one to ten—one being bearable and ten being excruciating.

On the day that Rose had told him that she was being released, she'd given an eleven.

"Doctor?" Novice Hame broke him from his horrified reverie, "Have you found something?"

"Where are her x-rays?"

She moved forward and made a few swipes with her gloved hand on the monitor. Her actions resulted in a new image popping up; an image of Rose's lungs.

"This was taken about two days before—" she decided not to say the words.

The Doctor could feel adrenaline coursing through his body as he looked at the image. He had to remain level-headed, he kept telling himself, it was just about a one-in-a-million shot that he had of being right. He couldn't allow himself too much hope.

"What's that?" he pointed. He realised that his hand was trembling and willed it to stop.

Novice Hame shook her head. "It's just a problem with the exposure," she said sadly, "We became hopeful when we saw it, as well. We thought we were finally making some progress. But all the tests we did to find out what it was said that it didn't exist."

The Doctor looked at the large shadow that loomed over her lungs in the x-ray. "Of course your tests didn't detect it," he said quietly, "How could they? It's billions—no, _millions-of-billions _of years old. Not even your hospital's files go back that far. There's probably only a handful of people in existence who would actually know what that was," he looked at Novice Hame with an indiscernible expression, "Well, I say a handful. It's probably only one."

Novice Hame was catching on to what he was getting at. He could see it in the disbelief in her eyes. "Who?" she asked.

The Doctor gave her a great, big smile. "Me."

He did a little hop of joy and then proceeded to plant a kiss right on her forehead. Then he frowned, blowing a raspberry. "Euw, not doing that again," he stuck out his tongue and removed a hairball. Looking up at Novice Hame again, he winced, "Sorry. That was rude, wasn't it? You see? _This _is why I need Rose. She's always telling me off for being rude."

He ran over to Rose's side one last time before leaving.

Looking at her laying there, the Doctor couldn't even bring himself to pretend that she was just asleep. The fact of the matter was that Rose was never this still. She was constantly moving. Constantly full of life. Even in sleep, she'd be talking his ear off the whole night through, shifting and moving around every few minutes.

And he loved that about her.

He put a hand on her pale cheek. "I'm going to get you back," he told her.

Then he was gone.

The staffers who had remained in the morgue to witness the scene all turned with asking expressions to Novice Hame. "What was that all about?" one of them asked her.

Novice Hame just smiled. "He's going to get her back."

…

As he ran, the Doctor felt impossibly light.

He was going to get her back. He was going to save her.

He had a plan.

"Alright, Sexy!" he cried as he entered the console room. He ran around the console elatedly, flipping switches as he went. Finally, he reached the penultimate lever, "Let's stir up some trouble, eh?"

And with that the TARDIS took flight, flinging herself and her Doctor into yesteryear.


	13. Chapter 13

They landed with a thud and the Doctor didn't waste any time. He was out the door in a flash, finding himself in a quiet, night-time street when he exited.

It was 1985. The time was, oh, just about—he cocked his head to the side as he calculated—just about midnight.

For a brief moment, he looked down the row of houses in the street in dismay. Which house had it been again?

His question was answered when the door to the house right in front of him abruptly opened. The Doctor moved to the hedge he had hidden the TARDIS behind. The last thing he needed right now was a lengthy conversation with himself…

"That was—horrible," past-Rose said as she appeared in the doorway. Her eyes were red and swollen from the crying she'd just done over the lost woman.

"I'm sorry," the other Doctor said, coming into view behind her, "I'm so sorry we couldn't do anything, Rose. I know how much you wanted to save her."

Rose rubbed at her eyes as new tears started forming there. "I just wish we could've gotten to them sooner, you know? Then maybe we could have saved her. Now she's gone, and that little boy—" she shook her head, the tears spilling over.

"Hey," the Doctor said softly as he moved forward and put his arms around her, "We can't save everyone. You know that." He pulled her back to look her in the eye. "And if it wasn't for you spotting that something was wrong when you did, that little boy would have been dead, too."

His words seemed to cheer her up a bit. Not much, though. "Yeah," she muttered, trying to clear away the tears, "Yeah, I suppose you're right."

"Come on," he said, taking her hand, "Let's go back to the TARDIS and I'll whip us up a nice spot of tea."

This brought a little smile to her face. "Alright," she said softly.

With that they strode off, able to console themselves in the knowledge that they still had each other.

The Doctor watched them leave. As they disappeared from view down the street, he felt the resolve inside of him strengthening.

He had to get her back. _Had _to. Failure wasn't an option.

He moved out from his hiding place, crossing the street in large strides. His past self had left the door unlocked and for that he was grateful; seeing as it was wood, the sonic wouldn't have been able to open it.

The small foyer inside led to the living room where the horrible scene had played out.

After about three days of investigation, they'd found out that the woman had been infected by a living shadow; an elemental shade that had escaped from the Howling Halls. They'd been at the woman's house almost instantly after they'd discovered this, but it had already been too late.

He remembered looking at the woman laying so lifelessly on the carpet and knowing that he was to blame for her loss, but just as he always did, the Doctor had pushed the guilt down. It was over, he'd told himself. At least the boy would be safe, as the shadow would have died at the same time the woman had.

He had been wrong.

He'd discovered the truth a few days later when he was in the library.

His eyes had just happened upon it while he wasn't really paying attention. In one of the books splayed out around him (as he had really been researching unicorn lore to prove to Rose that they were, in fact, real), he had spotted the small excerpt on Living Shadows.

It had said the following:

_According to legend, Living Shadows or 'Umbra Viventis' are the most feared creatures to originate from the elemental plains of the Howling Halls. These entities are said to consist of anti-matter rather than matter, causing their existence to be factually impossible to detect. Living Shadows feed on joy. They prey on subjects that therefore feel joy and bring joy to others, absorbing their life-force until his or her inevitable demise. _

_Though it is common for the shadow to then meet its own end in accordance to this, it has been speculated that a parasite of advanced years can have the ability to abandon its vessel shortly before death and to establish itself temporarily in another, remaining dormant until a next subject is found._

Reading the last partof the passage, he'd brushed the information off.

No, he'd thought. That was just speculation. The shadow gathered its strength from its host. That implied that it would weaken as the subject did. By the time all major workings in the body shut down, the shadow wouldn't possibly have enough strength to do an emergency ejection. No way. Couldn't be.

Could it?

Well, _that _oversight had really come around to bite him in the backside.

As the Doctor stood, resigning himself to staring out the living room window so as not to look at the horror that lay at his back, he knew exactly what had happened.

The shadow _had _managed to escape.

As its subject was dying, it locked onto the nearest living thing it could find. Its host had been a single mother, and so there was only one other person in the house at the time. There was only ever one option for the shadow to choose. And it took it. It jumped into the first vessel it could find. It stayed there, sleeping for more than twenty years.

The Doctor never forgot a face.

"Who're you?"

The Doctor looked up, seeing the small child standing in front of him. He went down on his haunches, coming down to eye-level with the boy.

"Hello," he told him, "What's your name?"

"Elton," the little boy said. He cocked his head to the side, his little face confused, "Are you a monster?"

Yes, he wanted to say. He was absolutely a monster. He was a monster for not saving this child's mother, and even more so for coming back here for his own gain.

What he was about to do would be seen as an act of treason by his people. Were they still alive, he would probably be receiving a warrant of termination shortly after the deed was done. That was the punishment for changing a fixed point in time for one's personal advantage, after all.

And that was just what he was going to do.

That day in the factory, he'd thought he'd recognised the man who had been watching them in the hallway. It was just an inkling at the time, but the Doctor could have sworn that he'd seen that face before.

As it turned out, that had been the face of the man transporting a Living Shadow. A shadow that the Doctor hadn't even realised existed.

That had been the face of the man who had helped the shadow find a suitable host; who had complied perfectly as the shadow passed from him into the alien they were chasing and, finally, into its final subject.

Rose.

Of course it would choose her. She brought joy to everyone she touched. In a universe full of darkness, she was a rare, beautiful spark of light. She was a constant reminder that, whatever monsters there were out there, it wasn't all bad.

She was certainly _his_ reason for fighting.

And he most certainly wouldn't let her go without a fight.

"I'm not a monster," he told Elton, touching his fingertips to the boy's temples, "I'm here to take away the monsters."

He closed his eyes and searched for the shadow in the boy's mind. When he found it, he called out to it.

"Oi!" he called, "You want joy? Here's your joy!"

And then he thought about her. Everything they had been through. Everything they had done. From the moment their hands linked and he'd told her to run.

He thought about the way her hair glinted in the sunlight, the way she laughed, the feeling of just holding her. He thought about all the joy that they had shared during her time in the hospital. He thought about all the things they had talked about. All the things they hadn't talked about.

He thought about anything and everything that was him and Rose in the TARDIS. Just as it should be.

The shadow detected each memory like a bloodhound and started charging towards him.

As it passed into the Doctor, he smiled. The shadow realised a moment too late the mistake that it had made.

"Oh, yes," he said matter-of-factly, "I forgot to mention that I'm not what you might call your typical host."

He concentrated as he pushed the shadow into the recesses of his psyche; into a room at the very back of his mind, locking its door and throwing away the key.

"Try getting out of _that_!" he said with a smug smile. Then, his smile vanishing completely, "When you hurt the people I love, there is no power on this Earth that can stop me from stopping you."


	14. Chapter 14

**Author's note: And here it is…the final chapter! Thank you a thousand times over to all of you who have followed, read and reviewed this story! You guys are AWESOME and your reviews never fail in making me smile :D**

**Now on to the dramatic conclusion!**

…

He trembled with anticipation as he re-entered the console room and set coordinates for the factory, approximately eleven days ago. He watched the time rotor move rhythmically all through the short flight, matching his breathing to the rhythm so as to steady himself.

He'd really done it, he was rapidly realising. He'd really changed time.

The hospital had never happened. No one would remember any of it; not the hospital staff, not Novice Hame—and most certainly not Rose.

All those moments they had shared were gone. Memories in the Doctor's mind with no basis in reality. Just an avid daydream with some very real emotional repercussions for him.

And he had no idea what the implications of that would be.

He'd never been one for rules. As a child at the Academy— before that— he had preferred the beat of his own drum.

But he always had boundaries. Even before the Time Lords had gone, he knew that there were some lines that just shouldn't be crossed. Lines like taking advantage of beings with limited knowledge of their futures. Lines like meddling with people's timelines.

Lines like changing established events.

And that was what Rose's death had been. It had been fixed; an event that wouldn't, couldn't and shouldn't be changed. Just like Pete Tyler's inevitable and completely unalterable demise, rationality pointed to the fact that Rose Tyler had died and, by all rights, should have stayed dead.

Well.

Perhaps he preferred being irrational, then.

As the silence and the tension in the room thickened, the Doctor realised that he was holding his breath.

Standing there, hands clutching at the console as he stared down the TARDIS corridor, he willed his dreams into existence.

It couldn't _not_ have worked, he thought adamantly. Not after all he'd done. Not after all he'd been through.

It _had_ to work. It just had to.

He waited.

Waited for one minute.

Two.

Ten.

"So," a cheery voice suddenly rang out from somewhere nearby, "After we head to Delta X-5 to drop Mister Grabby off, where to then?"

She appeared in the doorway then.

Her hair was still slightly wet from the shower she'd just taken. Her cheeks were flushed. Her eyes were bright.

And she was so very _alive_.

Rose was feeling good after having showered. She'd been feeling good even before the shower, when they'd come back to the TARDIS with the alien in tow. She'd needed an outlet for all her pent up energy for a while now, and the running about they did that day had been just the ticket.

She didn't know why, but it felt as though the running was getting fewer and further in between these days. It had been that way ever since Krop Tor. Ever since they'd had that short conversation in the console room after their reunion.

"_It said I was gonna die in battle"_ she'd told him, trying to put on her bravest face.

He'd looked at her with the most unfathomable expression and, so decisively, he'd said:

"_Then it lied."_

It hadn't been so much a statement as a promise. They'd both known it at the time. They both still knew. He wasn't going to let anything happen to her. Ever. He'd die before he'd allow her to get hurt— fatally or otherwise.

And that scared her.

Rose caught sight of the Doctor's expression then. He was standing by the console limply, just staring at her. He looked as though he'd just seen a ghost.

"Doctor?" she asked concernedly, moving closer to him. She touched his hand softly, "You alright?"

His wide eyes darted across her face as though he was memorising every single inch of it. He grasped her other hand and held both tightly for a moment. And then he just looked at her. Looked at her as though he hadn't seen her in years.

Before she could fully process what was happening, she was in his arms.

He hugged her as tightly as he could. Holding on for dear life.

There was such a desperation in his actions, such a change from the way he'd been just half an hour ago, that Rose found herself genuinely distressed at the sudden outpouring of emotion. The way he was clinging to her—like he just couldn't pull her close enough. Just couldn't hold her fast enough…

"Doctor," Rose said in pleading tones, "Will you please tell me what's going on?"

He pulled back and smiled the most heartbreakingly happy smile she'd ever seen him smile.

Were those tears in his eyes?

He cupped her cheeks, that joyful expression still in place. "It's really you," was all he said before pulling her into a kiss.

She stiffened for only a moment as his lips pressed firmly against hers.

Then she kissed him back, and it was wonderful. Loving and urgent and passionate. It sent a warmth through her entire body and she could practically feel the overt happiness radiating from him.

And she didn't understand. She didn't know why he was kissing her or why he was acting like she'd been gone for an eternity.

She didn't care.

It was over too soon. The Doctor stopped the kiss quickly and Rose could see the disbelief in his eyes at what he had just done.

With a hint of exasperation, she realised that he was most probably never going to mention it again. Just like all the other little moments they shared, this instance was going to be swept under a rug labelled "do no lift".

He cleared his throat and took two steps back, pulling at his ear awkwardly. "Uhm," he said very eloquently.

"What's happened, Doctor?" Rose asked him, remnants of that previous fear creeping up in her again, "What's wrong?"

He dropped the hand pulling at his ear, instead entwining it with her hand. "Nothing's wrong," he told her, "That's the point."

She raised a dubious eyebrow and he shrugged. It was one of those overly nonchalant shrugs he gave when he was trying to brush something off.

"Listen," he continued quickly, obviously attempting to divert her attentions away from the matter at hand, "How about I take you somewhere special?" he grinned, "Somewhere amazing."

Rose kept quiet for a while, trying to come to a decision. Something inside of her was telling her to drop the subject, and for the first time, she found herself complying. There was just this look in the Doctor's eyes—she couldn't possibly fathom what it was, but she could see that the past half an hour that they had been apart had taken some kind of toll on him.

What wasn't he telling her?

She shook her head, reining the curiosity in. She let go of his hand, perching herself on the nearest jump seat. "Alright," she told him, returning his grin, "Where do you reckon?"

"Well," he said lightly, turning his back on her to fiddle with the switches on the console board, "I was thinking I'd take you to see New York in the 1920's."

"New York in the 1920's," she repeated wistfully, "What's that like?"

Then he heaved a sigh and turned around to face her again. Quite obviously, they weren't going anywhere until the Time Lord had spoken his mind. Rose gave him a prompting look, wondering what could be bothering him so much.

"Remember when I took you to that planet with the flying manta rays?" he asked her, slowly moving over to where she sat until there was barely any distance between them.

Rose saw that that unfathomable expression had returned to his eyes. It was such a strange mingling of joy and pain, such an alien emotion, that she found herself just staring up at him silently, unable to think of anything to say.

After a long moment she shook herself from her mute state, her brows knitting together at the mention of the trip. They never talked about that.

"Volatilla?" she inquired.

"Yeah," he gave a small smile at the memory, "That one. Do you remember what we talked about that day?"

Rose nodded slowly, both afraid and interested as to where this conversation was going. "You asked me how long I was going to stay with you."

"And you told me that you were going to stay with me forever," he said, looking at her evenly.

"I did," she agreed.

"Listen, Rose," he paused and frowned before continuing. She'd never seen him search for words like he seemed to be at the moment. Like he was trying to tell her something without upsetting her…

"I know that our definitions of forever aren't the same thing."

And then it dawned on her.

"Oh god," she whispered. She blinked rapidly at the moisture that suddenly started filling her eyes, not wanting him to see how distressed she was.

She finally understood why he was acting the way he was. Why he'd been acting strangely ever since they'd come back from that impossible planet.

He'd been steering them around in circles. Alien planets completely devoid of excitement, boring moments in history and then to the Powell Estate—over and over.

She'd thought that he was just in a bit of a rut at the time; maybe a tad tuckered out after all the excitement on Krop Tor.

Had it really been a hint all along? Had he subtly been trying to tell her that it was time she moved out? If not back to her mum's, then maybe some faraway alien planet or a historical setting that struck her fancy?

It had only been a matter of time, she supposed. Happiness was just too short-lived for it not to be.

The striking of this revelation almost felt as though it was causing her physical pain, but when she looked back up at the Doctor, it was with a hardened look in her eyes. If this was what he wanted, she'd be damned if she showed him how much it hurt her.

"Doctor, do you—" she took a deep breath to steady her voice, "Are you asking me to leave you?"

His eyes widened and his eyebrows shot up into his hairline in alarm. "What?" he grasped her hands tightly, closing what distance was left between them, "No! No," he shook his head, looking very disturbed indeed by the thought. He met her gaze intensely, "Rose, no. _Never_."

She let out a sigh of relief. "Okay, then."

"Blimey, give me a heart attack, why don't you," he muttered. He shook his head as if to clear it of the thought. Then he gathered his bearings and started again. "Now, as I was saying, my definition of forever and yours are two very different things. I know that when you promised that you'd stay with me forever, you meant that you'd stay for the rest of your life and not—not for the rest of _my _life. I get that. I do," he paused again, "And, well, I just want you to know how much that means to me. That you'd do that for me. Everything you've done for me. Just _being _here in general. Because Rose, I—I don't say it enough. I never actually tell you these things. And someday—someday I'm going to regret that. So much. And I _know_ that if—when—that day comes, it's going to hurt no matter what. But it'll just hurt so much more if I realise that I never actually _told _you—" he trailed off.

"Told me what, Doctor?" she asked quietly.

"Rassilon, this is hard," he mumbled, rubbing at the back of his neck. He looked at her earnestly and took a deep breath, "Rose, I—"

And then her phone rang.

"Hold that thought," she told him, noticing how his face fell."It's my mum," she mouthed as she put the phone to her ear.

"Of course it is," he muttered sourly.

"Mum?" Rose frowned as Jackie spoke loudly on the other side of the line, "Mum, calm down. What ha— alright, don't worry, we can sort this out," she listened for a moment and then threw a worried glance in the Doctor's direction, "why?" she asked. As she listened for another moment, something dangerous flashed in her eyes, "Alright. Listen, Mum, we'll be right over."

She pressed the disconnect button on her phone, murder in her gaze.

"What happened?" the Doctor asked her worriedly.

"Some bloke came round to Mum's and pretended to be interested in her!" she exploded, "Turns out that he was actually just trying to get through to you the whole time! Mum said she found a picture of me in his jacket."

The Doctor frowned deeply at this. He didn't like the fact that people were trying to get to him through Rose and her mother. Not at all.

"Did you catch a name?" he asked.

"Mum said he called himself Elton," Rose said.

"Really?" he inquired incredulously, suddenly taken aback. Then, to himself, "What are the odds?"

"Doctor?"

"How about we pay Elton a visit?"

"Yes," Rose said decidedly. She had that scary I'm-gonna-kill-him look in her eye and the Doctor briefly felt sorry for the bloke she was about to unleash her wrath upon. "I think I'd like to have a little chat with him."

Their previous conversation forgotten for the moment, the Doctor set the TARDIS coordinates for present-day London.

As he did this, he couldn't help but smile to himself.

He'd done it. He'd really done it. She was alive and well and, owing to the apparent lack of reapers, he'd actually gotten away with changing the course of history.

For once, it seemed that the universe was on his side. Maybe he and Rose really were meant to stay together.

Was what he did necessarily the right thing?

No.

Could what he did be seen as an act of playing God?

Yes.

But Rose was worth it.

**...**

**Sequel time! Keep an eye out for the thrilling next instalment to this series, **_**Vampires don't Sparkle **_**:)**


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